


Timing, Sherlock

by HermioneGirl96



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cemetery, Crying, Gen, POV Third Person, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneGirl96/pseuds/HermioneGirl96
Summary: Post-Reichenbach. Sherlock returns while John is crying beside his grave.





	Timing, Sherlock

"Don't be dead. Don't be dead. Just please don't be dead. One more miracle, Sherlock. Just for me. Just come back for me." John stood weeping by Sherlock's grave, sobbing out the same words he said every time. He came once a week now, on Friday evenings. He didn't remember how he'd chosen that, but he supposed he was subconsciously paying homage to the way that Sherlock had always impeded his ability to date.

"Done," said Sherlock, stepping out from behind a tree.

"Great," John muttered. "Bloody wonderful. Now I've gone and started hallucinating about him." He turned and trudged away from the grave.

Sherlock vaulted over his own headstone, black coat billowing out behind him, and ran across his grave, quickly catching up with the weary, grief-laden John. He grabbed John's right arm and squeezed hard. "You're not hallucinating. I'm real. I never died."

John was right-handed, but the punch he delivered to Sherlock's nose with his left hand drew blood. John held up his now-bloody fist to his face and frowned at it. "I saw you die."

"No. You saw me fall, but you didn't see me hit the ground. There was a wall in the way."

"You chose my vantage point."

"Of course. You didn't reach me in time to really examine me, either."

"The bicyclist."

"A plant, obviously."

"But how did you survive?"

Sherlock removed a rubber ball from his pocket, tossed it half a meter in the air, and caught it on its descent. "Some things are meant to remain secret."

John's eyes widened. "The ball. You used it to stop your pulse. But you couldn't do it indefinitely—someone had to bandage you up. And Molly identified the body as you, so—oh. Oh! Molly! You asked Molly for help, didn't you? She bandaged up the real you, pretended to identify your corpse, and sent a coffin to the funeral home. She'd already sealed it; she said your body was too mangled, but really you weren't inside it!"

Sherlock smiled. "I'd forgotten how quick you are. Well done. I've missed you."

John's eyes widened once again, but this was a different kind of surprise. Sherlock was complimenting him? "Are you really Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes traversed John's form. "Shoes substantially more worn than when I last saw you, so you've been walking a lot. Wear father forward on the toe than you get with walking, so you've been running." Sherlock sniffed. "That's Lestrade's cologne, so—" He gave John a strange look, and John frowned back. "So you've been working with Scotland Yard. There's dirt under your fingernails, which wouldn't be allowed if you had a doctor's job again, but your clothes have been recently laundered, so you're not unemployed." Sherlock gave John a different sort of strange look. "You've taken over my job."

John shrugged. "Someone had to do it."

"You believe me, then?"

"What?"

"That I'm myself. Alive."

"Yes." John frowned. "Why? Why come back now?"

Sherlock grinned suddenly, his pale blue eyes taking on a maniacal gleam. "A case, John! A case!" Then he frowned, losing the lunacy, and his head jerked slightly to the right. "What?"

John frowned at him. "Sherlock, are you all right?"

Sherlock looked back at John. "You know I talk to you when you're not there. Lately, you've talked to me, too."

"What? I haven't—"

"I mean, I hear you when you're not there."

"But—" John shook his head. "What did I say?"

Sherlock smiled. "You said, ' _Timing_ , Sherlock.'"


End file.
